


Melt the ice within your soul

by goodbyelover



Series: Ice Rinks and Coffee Dates [1]
Category: UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyelover/pseuds/goodbyelover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tragic accident ends Wenhan’s figure skating career right as he’s about going head to head against a hot new skater for the Olympic title. Two years later, Seungyoun walks back into Wenhan’s life and Wenhan has to face some hard truths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melt the ice within your soul

**Author's Note:**

> This erases a lot of current figure skating history (like Hanyu Yuzuru, etc) to instead fuse fiction with reality. Technical dates and timelines differences (like the relaxation of China’s one child policy and the Olympics) also reflect this. Super thanks to aeryn_unnie and inconspicuouslyblue for being the best cheerleaders and advisors in the world.
> 
> While this is only one part of a much longer plot, I'm so happy that I was able to complete this and that my writing style returned to me ;o; (poor thing, it's been so neglected.) 
> 
> (UNIQ needs more fic.)
> 
> Written for [The Game Season 2015](http://thegameseason.livejournal.com) @ LJ

“Look, my parents are watching Zhilan out of the goodness of their hearts,” Lu Han said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re not repaying them by _pasting yourself to the wall_ this entire party.”

“Your parents adore Zhilan,” Wenhan said. “They practically threw me out of the house and said I didn’t have to pick her up until Sunday night.”

Grinning wryly, Lu Han gave a shrug of his shoulders, the amber dregs of his drink sloshing around in the bottom of his stein. “What can I say? They’re still pretty hell-bent on becoming grandparents.” He said it jokingly, but Wenhan knew it was still a sore subject for Lu Han - mostly because across the room, deep in conversation with a several friends, was his boyfriend Minseok.

“Anyway,” Lu Han bulldozed ahead. “Don’t try and distract me. It’s Yixuan’s birthday party and here you are, practically sulking. Everyone’s really excited you came.”

Wenhan looked over the hall. He did know just about everyone there - by name and face, if not personally. The skating rink was a small world, after all. Somehow he just hadn’t realized this was what he’d be facing when he agreed to spending the night out for Yixuan’s 30th birthday.

“I haven’t talked to anyone for ages,” Wenhan muttered, uncomfortable. It was the truth – he saw Yixuan and Lu Han often, but besides that, he only occasionally met Yifan for a cup of coffee. Sometimes Lu Han invited him out to dinner with Minseok and a couple other friends. He hadn’t even seen Han Geng in months.

“Everyone knew you were having a rough time. Now’s a good time to reconnect with old friends, right? You could catch up on all the drama, like _that_.” Lu Han pointed across the hall where a familiar flashy blond had entered. Zitao wasn’t actually a figure skater, but an up and coming model who’d somehow always been in the same circle regardless. He was arm and arm with…

“What’s he doing with Song Minho?” Wenhan asked, because Zitao had always been hung up on a certain figure skater from Canada.

“That’s exactly why you should go ask,” Lu Han said, gleefully beginning to shove at Wenhan’s shoulders. Wenhan resisted at first, but knew that Lu Han was like a dog with a bone and he wasn’t going to let up until Wenhan reentered society.

Just then, however, he spotted someone crossing the floor and his blood chilled at the sight. He dug his heels in and threw Lu Han a look.

“What the _fuck_ is he doing here?”

* * *

[October 7th, 2013]

The rink was blissfully empty – a rare thing, but Wenhan had learned how to time himself so he had an hour before the next few skaters straggled in and the lack of sleep was worth it. Stress was high enough as it was with Wenhan running into a rough start of the season due to blade problems.

The rink was perfectly smooth and Wenhan laced up his skates, thinking about what it’d look like when he was done with it, what it’d say about him before others came along with their own stories. Once upon a time, this rink had been a cold, alien place to him. Now it was home, even if he wouldn’t call the rest of California that.

The sound of his blades on the ice was sharp and high as he left the barrier and spun into the middle, slowly warming up.

“Why must you do things so early?” Han Geng grumbled into his coffee steam, arriving a few minutes after Wenhan finished warming up.

“You agreed, didn’t you?” Wenhan said with a grin as he slid to the barrier next to him. “Besides, the rest are here in a half hour.”

“Whatever. Keep going, you know you’ve got this in the bag if you get your jumps together but until you clean up your quads… Cho Seungyoun’s going to slaughter you at the Cup of China.”

“He’s a punk with no elegance and a shitty haircut,” Wenhan said, bemused, surprised that Han Geng thought the boy was worth Wenhan’s time. “Come on, ge, he’s barely stepped into the senior levels. Just because everyone’s shitting themselves over him being a little boy wonder.”

“He also stole first place from a three time world champion,” Han Geng reminded him sternly. “And broke a world record with his short program.”

“Whatever, I’ll worry about Yifan and Changmin first,” Wenhan said dismissively as he turned back to the ice, leaving Han Geng to watch and yell at him. Even if that kid wasn’t a problem, Wenhan still needed to work on his quads. The field of talent in men’s figure skating was deep, he couldn’t afford to be less than stellar.

Hours later, Wenhan hobbled back to his apartment. He’d pushed it a little too hard after taking a spill on the ice, but it wasn’t a big deal. A good soak in the tub and some painkillers and he’d be right as rain in the morning. He took his time, pouring bathsalts and lighting his favorite candle before climbing in, phone on the toilet just in case, but he fully intended to shut out the world for at least an hour.

Sometimes the pain and pressure got to be overwhelming, but Wenhan wouldn’t have changed it for the world. His parents had initially taken him to skating lessons to appease him – once upon a time he’d dreamed of being a hockey player and his parents hoped to change his mind – but Wenhan had quickly fallen in love with the way the ice moved beneath his feet as he soared across the ice. His teacher had quickly recognized his talent and arranged for more advanced training.

Fast forward thirteen years and Wenhan was now the reigning champion for male figure skating in China and a top contender for the upcoming Olympics. His parents were proud and supportive, as was his tiny little baby sister.

The tension was rising as competitions began to fall into place, all reaching the summit of an Olympic gold medal, and Wenhan hoped to have it placed around his neck. He had to get through the Grand Prix Final, first.

Abruptly his phone began ringing, interrupting his imagination. It was Han Geng’s phone number and so he grouchily picked up. “Hello?”

“Wenhan?” It was Han Geng, but his mentor sounded frazzled. “Shit. Wenhan, are you home now?”

Wenhan sat up, water threatening to slosh over the edge. “Hey, hey, what’s up?”

“… Wenhan,” Han Geng said, and the tone of his voice had sirens going off in Wenhan’s mind. “Wenhan, I’m coming over. I have to tell you something.”

Two days later, it was announced that Li Wenhan, one of the favorites for the Olympic gold medal, was withdrawing from all competitions and retiring immediately. His reasons were personal and nothing more was said as he vanished from the public eye.

That season, at age seventeen, Cho Seungyoun won the Grand Prix Final and skated on to an Olympic gold medal. A month later, he won his first World Championship gold medal, making him the youngest male figure skater with a triple crown under his belt.

* * *

“Lu Han,” Wenhan hissed, and the man gave him a puzzled look.

“He’s here for the party?” Lu Han said, quirking an eyebrow. “Did Yixuan not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Wenhan asked, scowling. There was no mistaking those dimples, even if the haircut was now a stylish artsy mop of hair instead of the terrible undercuts Seungyoun used to favor. Despite two years and careful avoidance, there’s no mistaking Cho Seungyoun, twice world champion and reigning Olympic gold medalist.

“He’s been looking for a new coach,” Lu Han began explaining, glancing at where Zitao and Seungyoun had fallen into animated conversation, the model still pasted to Minho’s side. “Yixuan’s been trying him out, seeing if they’re a good fit.”

A sudden chill settled over Wenhan. He _hadn’t_ known that. Yixuan was the only person from the skating rinks that he kept in regular contact with besides Lu Han. They went out for lunch dates and played basketball together. He _definitely_ hadn’t mentioned that Seungyoun was asking for a chance to work with him.

(Yixuan had never made it to the Olympics and hadn’t been the most decorated skater during his prime, but his ability to coach skaters into superb quad jumps had a lot of skaters clamoring for his attention. Cho Seungyoun’s sponsors were probably pretty keen on adding Yixuan to their coaching roster.)

At his silence, Lu Han sighed and gently took his elbow. “Look, this is probably why Yixuan didn’t tell you. You don’t have to talk to him, okay? But don’t be a dick about it.” He began guiding Wenhan along a safer route towards the food.

“He still should have told me,” Wenhan muttered as he tried his best to give Seungyoun the evil eye without making it obvious that he was even looking in that direction – all of his efforts wasted when Zitao spots him look their way and begins waving frantically.

“Lu Han,” he half-shouted as others turn to look in curiosity. Zitao was easily over six feet tall and his presence was twice of that. He was always turning heads, one way or another. “Lu Han, Wenhan!”

Wenhan winced and wished there was any feasible way he could fend off Zitao’s attentions, but there were half a dozen people glancing their way and he reluctantly stayed put.

“God, it’s been so long,” Zitao exclaimed as he threw his arms around Wenhan and squeezed, hard. Wenhan tried not to go stiff as a board – Zitao was wonderful, but he was usually too much for Wenhan’s more reserved personality. “How’ve you been doing? I’ve missed seeing you at the rinks.”

Wenhan froze up for a moment, because he hated having to confront the idea that all these people knew he’d retired and unlike Yixuan, he hadn’t stuck around. “I’ve been fine,” he said, lightly, smiling because Zitao seemed so rapt. “Finally put my degree to good use as an accountant?”

“Don’t you miss us, though?” Zitao asked, lips quirking down into a small pout. He was playing, of course, but Wenhan could feel Lu Han wincing beside him. Still, Wenhan didn’t need to be coddled and Zitao was at least easy to navigate.

“Everyone but you,” he told the model, laughing when Zitao squawked and punched him, nearly toppling Minho over in his exuberance. Wenhan relaxed a fraction, buoyed by the easiness of Zitao’s laughter.

“You’ve met Seungyoun, right?” Zitao asked once he’d settled down, nodding to the boy next to him.

“We never officially met, but I’m a huge fan,” Seungyoun said, smiling tentatively at Wenhan, hand extended.

There was something strangely out of place about the entire situation, a bizarre feeling, as if Wenhan wasn’t quite occupying his body, because Cho Seungyoun was standing there and he wasn’t at all the cocky teenager that Wenhan had painted in his head but instead seemed sincere with every word. Wenhand didn’t even realize they were shaking hands until his fingers were wrapped around Seungyoun’s palm.

“It used to be my dream to do a collaboration with you, but I never got a chance…” Seungyoun trailed off for a moment, glancing down at their hands for a moment. “I’m sorry about what happened. When you retired, I mean. My condolences.”

It was like a punch to the gut, so _blatant_ of an acknowledgement and even Minho’s smile faded a little at the reminder. Despite the fact that Wenhan remembered it every time he saw someone from the past or drove past Yixuan’s rink, he was sent reeling.

He dropped Seungyoun’s hand and, without a word, turned and left.

Behind him, he heard Zitao gasp and Lu Han call his name, but he didn’t stop until he was outside the reception hall, suddenly desperate for air and space and solitude, but also wanting to run to his car, tear across town to find Zhilan, and run until nobody could ever find them again.

 _Zhilan_.

He ended up pressing his back against the brick wall and fumbling for his phone, nearly dialing the wrong number twice before calling Lu Han’s mother.

“Hello, Wenhan,” she said, warmly, and Wenhan covered the mouthpiece so she couldn’t hear the way his breath had turned erratic. “Your timing is perfect, we just got her into her pajamas. Do you want to say goodnight?”

He forced himself to calm, to pretend calm, so she couldn’t hear the quiver in his voice. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Zhilan,” he could hear her say, voice muffled with distance. “Zhilan, it’s Daddy.”

There’s a gurgle of happiness, a laughter that he’d never tire of, and then Zhilan was on the phone. “Daddy, we watched Pororo!” She was happy, as always, and he can imagine her standing with the phone, hair a mess now that her pigtails are taken out, and dressed in her favorite Minnie Mouse pajamas.

“Really?” he said, nearly choking on the mixed emotion of joy and anguish - _focus on the joy_. “All your favorite episodes?”

“Well, not _all_ ,” she said, solemnly and he listened as she explained why they hadn’t been able to watch her very most favorite episode, making the proper noises of assent and distress when she needed them.

“Grandma and Grandpa said we could go to the zoo next time,” she said brightly, a sudden change of subject, but Wenhan is used to her four-year-old exuberance. “Can we go?”

Wenhan let out a shuddery, shuddery breath and smiled for her, even though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, sweetie. We can go to the zoo. Now go let Grandma put you to bed, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said, and he heard a rustle and a bump, probably as she climbed onto the couch to hand the phone back over to Lu Han’s mother. “Love you, good night!”

“Love you,” he echoed, staying on the line long enough to say good night to Lu Han’s mother, before the call ended.

* * *

Yixuan was pissed when Monday rolled, striding into Wenhan’s office with a bag full of pastries and a frown. “You don’t deserve these,” he said by way of introduction as he handed them over. He was pissed, but still too nice of a person anyway.

“Xuan, please,” Wenhan said, wearily. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed and he didn’t need the headache. He’d barely resisted leaving the party immediately after calling Zhilan. Instead, he’s gone to the bar to try and find something that would erase the entire thing from existence (the only thing he had in the end was a vicious hangover that he had regretted his entire Sunday.)

“You were an asshole,” Yixuan said, seating himself across the desk. “To a poor nineteen year old kid who was just really excited to meet you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We’re talking about it anyway,” Yixuan said, leaving no room for argument as he looked Wenhan over, taking in the rumpled tie and messily rolled sleeves and dark, tired eyes. His expression softened and he sighed. “Wenhan, you can’t keep doing this.”

“You can’t just turn it off,” Wenhan muttered, burying his face in his hands and wishing he could block the whole world out, block Yixuan out, because he just couldn’t face anything right now. Even the paperwork sitting in front of him felt insurmountable. 

“I’m not talking about your parents, Wenhan. I’d never tell you that,” Yixuan said softly. “But it’s… Wenhan, you can’t blame what happened or didn’t happen on a kid who has never even met you before.”

“I don’t _blame_ him!” Wenhan burst out, on his feet in agitation, because Yixuan had always been able to read Wenhan too well, able to press just enough that the truth was against Wenhan’s skin instead of buried deep where it belonged. “I don’t even care about him.”

“Wenhan, two years ago, you were just annoyed that some kid was getting so much attention when you thought he had no finesse. But this?” Yixuan gestured at Wenhan. “You started acting like he was some monster who’d destroyed your life.”

Braced against the edge of his desk in order to keep from pacing, Wenhan refused to meet Yixuan’s gaze. Stupid, annoying, perceptive Yixuan.

“I’m just… asking you to think about things,” Yixuan said after a minute of silence stretched between them. He stood, straightening his blazer. “I know why you’re upset, but that isn’t fair of you.” With that, he strode to the door, leaving behind the bag of pastries and a pressing weight of guilt.

Later that night, after dinner had been cleaned up after, Zhilan climbed onto his knee, perching just enough to stare up at him, eyes wide and questioning. “Did you have a hard day today, daddy?” she asked, and she was another one of those too-perceptive-for-their-own-good people in his life. He’d never regret carefully teaching her that she could always talk about how she felt, but sometimes he wished she didn’t pick up on quite so much.

“A little bit,” he admitted, smiling as he pulled her onto his lap properly (the last thing he wanted was for her to fall and hit her head on the coffee table.) “I just have a lot on my mind.”

He and Zhilan – they had a promise about being honest. Even if he sometimes had to simplify things, he knew how important it was for the both of them, to have that open channel.

“Bad, scary things?” she asked, her mouth a small ‘o’ of curiosity and concern.

“No,” he assured her, smiling and tweaking her cheek. “No, nothing scary. Just… I’m not sure yet.” He didn’t, truthfully. He’d been preoccupied, but everything was a confusing mix of question and answer and he just didn’t know yet. “I’ll tell you when I find out.”

“Okay,” she said, leaning forward to throw her little arms around his neck and squeezing as tight as she could, her bony shoulder threatening to cut off Wenhan’s air. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, Zhilan.”

* * *

On October 7th, 2013, Wenhan’s parents had been driving home from their silver anniversary trip when they hit black ice and rolled over a barrier. Wenhan’s father died on impact. Wenhan’s mother died shortly after the EMTs arrived.

Wenhan’s little sister, Zhilan, had been staying with a family friend that lived down the street, unaware that her parents were never coming home again.

* * *

Yixuan’s words stayed with Wenhan throughout the next week, though the other man didn’t bring it up the next time they met for breakfast or when they played basketball as they did on most Fridays. Wenhan almost expected Yixuan sit him down and demand they talk things over again and later he had no idea why, because Yixuan was not the forceful type. He’d wait, having left his words as a path for Wenhan to figure things out on his own.

(Wenhan knew he’d never work through it by himself, the whole thing being too personal, tangled inside him so he couldn’t step back and see a different picture.)

In the end, he called Lu Han.

Now Lu Han he hadn’t spoken to since the Seungyoun Incident – Wenhan knew that Lu Han had been the one to help him home, but that was about it. He hadn’t heard from the man since.

Still, Lu Han’s voice was warm across the line when he accepted an invitation over for a beer while Zhilan was at a slumber party for her friend’s fifth birthday (Five? How could her friends be turning five already?)

“She’s growing up so fast,” Lu Han observed as he looked over some of the pictures that were framed along the window sill. “This was last year, yeah? She’s really getting big.”

“Don’t remind me,” Wenhan said, sighing in fond exasperation. “At this pace, I’m buying her a size up because she fits her clothes for a few months before she’s done. She’s gonna be so tall by the time she’s done growing.”

“People said that about me too,” Lu Han said, mournful as he eased himself onto the couch, accepting the beer Wenhan handed over. “Look where that got me.”

They sat in a comfortable silence – Wenhan contemplating, Lu Han waiting.

“You’re being really nice,” Wenhan finally said, glancing up to see Lu Han’s lips twitching into a smile.

“It’s Yixuan’s job to make sure you realize you’re doing something stupid,” he explained, shrugging a shoulder, and it was an accurate description of his friendship with both over the years. Yixuan had been the older brother, there to guide him, mentor him, keep him steady. Lu Han kept him on his toes, kept him guessing, kept him playing the game.

“Stupid, huh?” Wenhan looked at Lu Han and then at the beer he had his fingers curled around.

“Maybe a little much,” Lu Han agreed. “But I told you not to be a dick.”

And how well Wenhan had listened to that, right? Wenhan grimaced as he took a pull from his beer, letting the bitter taste slide down his tongue. “I was never good at following advice. Mom always wanted me to be a lawyer.”

There was no judgment in Lu Han’s expression, just a soft, sad fondness. “He was so excited you were coming, you know? Like he brought it up at the rink a lot, because you really used to be his favorite.”

If Wenhan had needed a guilt trip, he’d have asked if Seungyoun was still planning on working with Yixuan, but didn’t want to dig that hole just yet, groaning as he swiped his hand across his face. “I really messed that up.” 

“If devastated someone who looks up to you is messing up… Yeah, yeah, you did.”

Wenhan kicked ineffectively as Lu Han’s shin. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side,” he grumbled, but mostly to cover up the fact that he knew how badly he’d done. He turned somber a moment later, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, the beer bottle twisting gently between his fingertips. “I just… It was hard. Knowing I didn’t even have the chance and he just… But Yixuan’s right. I can’t… I can’t put that on him.”

“Get to know him,” Lu Han said, encouragingly, scooting over to bump knees with him. “I mean, you don’t have to go chase him down, but… but maybe it’s time you saw him as a person.”

* * *

Despite Lu Han’s advice, it took two weeks for Wenhan to reach the point where he was sat out in the living room after Zhilan’s bedtime, laptop perched on his knees.

(And okay, this was also perhaps not what the man had in mind, but Wenhan was getting to know Seungyoun the way he should have years ago.)

It felt like the first step to something different, something new, was he typed the words ‘ _cho seungyoun short program 2015_ ’ into the search bar. Search results drop onto the page below – smaller competitions and some ice programs Seungyoun had done since it wasn’t quite yet time to gear up for a new season, along with older competitions. Wenhan’s eyes jumped over his Olympic medal winning performances – he was open to trying this, but not that much.

Not yet.

Still, Lu Han had said he should get to know Seungyoun, and this was the best way Wenhan knew how.

Taking a deep breath – why did watching a video feel like he was diving into the unknown? – he clicked on the top result.

* * *

Ten movies later and the Seungyoun on Wenhan’s laptop screen was a dream to watch, nothing at all like the too-much- _too-much_ teenager he remembered, but captivating and powerful as he slid through transitions, jumps, and pristine footwork. Where potential had been before, unimaginable talent stood now.

Wenhan watched as Seungyoun twisted himself up into a beautiful Biellman spin and finally began to understand.

* * *

It felt like returning home, the first time he visited the rink. He’d never really called this particular rink home – the one back in his hometown or the one tucked away in California, yes, but the sound of blade and ice was music he hadn’t even realized he was missing, mixed with the scent of oil and canvas and steel.

This part of his life wasn’t supposed to exist anymore. He had a good, steady job and he had Zhilan and he was happy. The thrill in his stomach as a student threw herself into a double axel, it didn’t belong in his life anymore.

(He tucked the feeling in the back of his mind, to be pulled out later, examined, cradled close.)

The first day, he skirted the rink itself and hid in Yixuan’s office for a while, riffling through his collection of paperweights and nearly giving the man a heart attack when he came in later, so buried in his clipboard that he nearly sat on Wenhan before noticing him.

“Jesus fuck,” Yixuan yelped.

“Language, Xuan-ge, I know you coach children,” Wenhan said, as serious as he could muster, though his resolve crumbled as he found himself staring into Yixuan’s horrified eyes. He slumped over in the chair, laughing until he’s nearly crying.

“What are you doing here?” It’s not accusatory or demanding. Yixuan looked both happy and concerned.

Ah. Wenhan smiled, tight and unsure, because he deserved that expression. He hadn’t been to a skating rink since Han Geng’s phone call two years ago, having nearly punched Yixuan when he’d gently suggested going after his parents’ funeral.

“I… I guess I thought it was time,” he said, the honestly an uncomfortable burn on his tongue, but maybe Yixuan deserved the same promise Zhilan did. “You were right.”

A smile slowly spreads across Yixuan’s face as he slung an arm around Wenhan’s shoulder and pulls him into a rib-crushing hug, though it dropped as something dawned on Yixuan when he pulled away.

“He’s not here,” he finally told Wenhan. “But he’ll be back on Tuesday.”

And Wenhan… Wenhan found he could smile at that. “I guess I’ll be back Tuesday.”

(“Did you have a good day today?” Zhilan asked as she helped him cook dinner, stabbing chopsticks into the frying pan as he tried to make sure she just didn’t burn herself. “You looked really happy when you got me at school.”

She’d always be his little candle, the light of his life, and he leaned over to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah, I had a really good day.”)

* * *

Without the nostalgia to distract him, Tuesday loomed over him as he made his way to the rink again. He was on the verge of choking, of calling his journey to an end, because he’d made so many steps in the right direction, surely this was enough. He nearly stopped, nearly turned around. Yixuan would know, but Yixuan… Well. Yixuan would forgive him.

In the end, though, he pushed through, stepping through the side door and heading towards the rink. Yixuan had even texted him earlier in the day, letting him know that Seungyoun would definitely be there when Wenhan got off work that day. Minseok had also texted him, letting him know that he and Lu Han would pick Zhilan up from school and he could take as long as he liked. (Wenhan wondered vaguely if Lu Han’s parents weren’t the only ones wanting grandchildren.)

All of that is forgotten when he sees Seungyoun on the ice, just as the boy is swooping into a spin. Like moth to flame, Wenhan makes his way to the divider, just watching as Seungyoun goes through a routine of spins and jumps, completely mesmerized.

Memories from a distance and video footage don’t even do Seungyoun justice, having never captured the way Seungyoun’s eyes soften when he does a layback spin, or the way his entire face lights up when he lands every jump perfectly. Wenhan felt a stab of envy when Seungyoun flies across the ice with a perfect quadruple lutz.

He lost track of how long he spent watching, Seungyoun unaware of the eyes on him (none of Yixuan’s kid classes ran on Tuesdays, so the rink was Seungyoun’s own for the time being.) It wasn’t until Seungyoun was beginning to wind down that he spotted Wenhan, doing a small double take, eyes wide as he realized exactly who was standing there.

Wenhan waved a little, offering a small smile as Seungyoun skated over. He looked apprehensive, which Wenhan couldn’t blame him for, feeling that tug of guilt.

“Hi,” he greeted when Seungyoun stopped by the divider.

“Hi,” Seungyoun repeated, lips twitching in a confused smile. “Yixuan said someone was going to come watch for a while… I didn’t. Uh. I didn’t think it’d be you.”

“Yeeeeah,” Wenhan said, and the entire thing was really embarrassing. “No, it’s totally… just me.” But there was no point in hemming and hawing over the situation, so he straightened his shoulders and pushed forward. “I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”

Nodding, Seungyoun reached for his black guards, slapping them on so he could hobble off the ice, though he didn’t go far.

“I’m…” Wenhan took a deep breath. This was so important to him, he wasn’t even sure if he had words for how much it mattered, his stint on Youtube (which sounded ridiculous when he thought about it) and his first trip to the rink, and now this.

“I’m sorry for what happened at Yixuan’s birthday,” he told Seungyoun, soft and desperately sincere. “That was very unfair of me and I should not have hurt your feelings with my actions.”

Seungyoun blinked, once, twice, owlish and confused, before looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for bringing it up? I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s okay,” Wenhan said, offering Seungyoun a rueful smile. “It happened.”

With that out of the way, the air didn’t magically clear up the awkwardness resting in the silence between them, but Wenhan couldn’t make himself mind it too badly, even though his ears are red.

It was a start.

* * *

Wenhan had already settled on a bench to watch Zhilan on the playground when Seungyoun appeared, hands shoved into the pocket of his skinny jeans. Seungyoun looked like a different person (again) in casual clothes, jeans and an oversized tee, a plaid flannel tied around his waist and large sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he said as he perched himself on the edge of the bench, clearly not ready to relax around Wenhan (understandably so.)

“You’re fine,” he assured the boy, smiling and nodding towards the playground. “We got here early.” The wording was purposeful and Seungyoun did not disappoint as he glanced over, eyebrows furrowed.

“We?”

Wenhan nodded. After the apologies were said and done, accepted and returned, Wenhan had found himself inviting Seungyoun to meet him at a park that he often visited when the weather was nice. He wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to make this leap from complete estranged strangers to this, but it felt like something he should show Seungyoun – maybe to go beyond an apology.

“We,” he confirmed, leaning forward and waving at the slides. “Zhilan, come here, please!”

She already had grass stains on her leggings when she trotted over. “Yeah, Daddy?”

He could feel more than see Seungyoun mentally curl into a ball of confusion at the title, and bit back a smile as Zhilan crowded against his knee, quickly taking note of the boy sitting next to her older brother. “Daddy, who’s that?” she asked in a stage whisper, pointing at Seungyoun.

“Pointing,” he reminded her, putting her hand down on his knee, an arm wrapped around her as he finally looked up at Seungyoun. “Honey, this is Cho Seungyoun. You know how Daddy used to be a skater? Well, Seungyoun’s is a skater still and he’s actually the best there is.”

Seungyoun cleared his throat, abashed. “Not really.”

Wenhan waved him off - a triple crown being proof enough that modesty was nearly absurd. Zhilan was eyeing Seungyoun with deep curiosity, leaning over Wenhan’s knee to examine him.

“You look like you’d be good at building forts,” she said gravely. “Would you like to make one with me?”

Seungyoun was so taken aback that Wenhan did actually laugh, glancing away to try and hide it as a cough.

“Maybe next time, Zhilan” he said when he’d composed himself, smoothing a hand over her hair and taking the time to brush the grass from her pants. “Why don’t you go play for a while?”

She was gone in an instant, back to the slides, shrieking at a group of girls her age that she wanted a turn too, quickly getting added to the line.

They both watched her for a moment, Wenhan looking away with a contented sigh, Seungyoun looking away puzzled.

“Daddy?” he asked, his expression so open and Wenhan knew he was trying to put the pieces together without offending Wenhan.

“Yeah. I mean… Technically brother,” Wenhan said, nodding, “But she was only two when our parents passed away and she knew that Dad took care of her and then suddenly I was taking care of her. It was just… it was easier for both of us, I think. She really needed it.”

Seungyoun nodded slowly and Wenhan wondered how much this revelation changed Seungyoun’s perception of him - wondered if the reason he was telling Seungyoun was so Seungyoun could see him as a good person again, would understand why his dream of figure skating championships had turned to kindergarten and imaginary friends.

“I never…” Wenhan began again. “I never retired because my parents passed away. They were my biggest supporters and I know that if I could have, they’d have wanted me to keep going.”

He nodded towards Zhilan. “But my baby sister was only two when they passed and I… Her happiness was worth more than giving up skating, you know? I… I miss it.” He was suddenly saying much more than he’d intended, but it just came bursting out. “I miss the rinks and the stupid scoring and the way you feel like you’re on top of the world when you finish a clean skate. I miss all the people I haven’t seen since I retired, the people I just wasn’t ready to see after that. But… I don’t regret it. I’d do it every single time, because this little girl who I’d barely seen because I was always traveling, she decided she loved me. And that meant the world to me, you know?”

Seungyoun listened attentively as Wenhan spoke, chancing a smile when he finished.

“I think I understand. That’s… pretty amazing of you.”

And Wenhan didn’t feel that amazing, honestly. He had handled things terribly, would continue to trip and fall as he stepped forward, but he knew that somehow, someday everything would be just fine.

He glanced over at Seungyoun, hair glinting in the sunlight and eyes like the depths of the universe and smiled.

Maybe that day was closer than he thought.


End file.
